


Leap of  Faith

by Sad_Depressed_Girly



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cause they die all the time, Multi, Reincarnation, Sex, Soulmates, Suffering, but they come back!, like lots of sex, oh they switch genders all the time too, so it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sad_Depressed_Girly/pseuds/Sad_Depressed_Girly
Summary: They always find each other. It doesn’t matter what either of them looks like.It doesn’t matter that they can never remember.None of it matters. Time after time, they find each other anyway.
Relationships: Eivor/Sigurd Styrbjornson, Tyr/Odin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Leap of  Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Reincarnation fic, but with a bit of a twist.
> 
> Ok So I'm kinda purposely being vague in the tags cause like, A LOT happens here, and tagging it all is exhausting, and there's no major warnings anyway. Just death. Cause they can't come back without dying first.
> 
> And some pretty explicit sex...like, from all sides. Like, m/m, f/m, f/f. We doing it all, baby. Go big or go home.

Ragnarok is upon them and Tyr thought he would be prepared.

No, he _is_ prepared he corrects. He’s prepared for his own death. Will walk into it with sword drawn and a battle cry shouted from his lips.

It’s _his_ death Tyr isn’t prepared for.

Havi.

Odin.

The AllFather.

But prepared or not. His love is dead. The light has left his remaining eye as he stares, empty, up into Tyr’s distraught face.

And Tyr realizes he’s already died once. His heart has died along with Havi. The rest of him just has to follow.

He hopes their contraption works. That they will see each other again in another life, but there was no way to test the thing. No way to know for sure.

Carefully, - with weak arms, and tears streaming down his cheeks, - He lays Havi back down on the ground. He allows himself a time to grieve. Just a small moment. Not more then a few minutes.

Then he slowly gets up, grabs his sword, and runs into the flames.

He must take a leap of faith, and hope.

\------------------------------------------

They’re hiding in a cave. Waiting. Silent as death itself. Hoping the giant, reptilian monster doesn’t find them.

“What if it got them.” The little girl in his arms whimpers.

“Shhh!” he says as he watches the creature’s head come into view. He can’t see it’s eye, the cave entrance is too small and low to the ground.

But he sees it’s teeth. He watches it’s nostrils flare, catching the scent of their fear.

He waits.

The girl buries further into him, but remains silent.

The creature soundlessly opens it’s mouth and suddenly, the tang of blood grows thick and heavy in the air. The girl shakes in despair and he doesn’t blame her.

There’s blood and bone stuck in the monsters teeth. It got them. It got their village.

He wants to hope someone survived. That his mother did. Or the girl’s parents.

But he can’t afford to hope at the moment. He has to keep them alive. Has to plan what to do now. Because the creature has realized they are here and it still hungers.

It can’t get into the cave but he hears it roar, and the ground shakes, then the walls do as well. A bang bang banging rhythm as the monster shoves it’s body at the cave. Trying to get at them, trying to make a new entrance.

‘It’s going to cause the cave to collapse on them,’ he realizes.

And they’ll either die buried in their new-found tomb, or as the monster’s next meal.

The girl isn’t silent anymore. Crying and screaming in fear and he wants to do the same, but one of them must remain strong.

‘No!’ he thinks. They are both nimble and small, and the monster, though large, is slow and stupid. It’s arms too small to do anything but hang in front of it’s body. Useless appendages. They just need to outrun it’s fat head. It’s large, stomping feet.

There’s a forest not too far. Trees thick and dense. If they can outrun the monster, they’ll be safe there. They’ll be safe from the monster at least.

But it will be dangerous. One wrong step and then their bodies will be crushed in it’s gaping maw. The collapsing cave would be a far less painful death for them.

‘Take a leap of faith.’ says a voice in his head.

He makes his decision. Grabbing the girl’s hand.

“RUN!”

He shouts, and they’re sprinting at the monster.

\------------------------------------------

She can’t find him. Can’t see through all the blood and hear through all the screams.

They’ve faced many battles together. The two of them, partners in crime and love, and it says something that they’ve managed to make enough of a name for themselves that they are always hired together.

Most people don’t hire a pair of mercenaries when they can easily get just one for half the price.

But theirs is a packaged deal, and they are worth the drachmae.

Finally she spots him. His signature, raven-themed armour shining through the fray. She takes a minute to think how beautiful he is, how lucky she is to be with him even now, surrounded by death as they are.

Then she notices, on her other side, the commander of their army about to face off against _him._

Deimos

They say he is a Demigod and she didn’t believe them until she had seen him fight with her own eyes.

She knows instantly Brasidas won’t come out of this battle alive.

She feels as if she’s standing at a fork in the road. Her love on one side, and the best commander that Sparta currently has, on her other.

Leap of Faith. She thinks suddenly, and then turns and clashes her sword against Deimos’ spear, before he can lodge it through her employer’s head.

She’s completely outmatched. Deimos is a beast in the battlefield and she’s barely holding on.

She’s going to die in Brasidas’ place she realizes.

Then their own Demigod arrives. The Eagle-Bearer with her shining armour and mystical spear, and Deimos is forced to go on the defensive. The other mercenary leads Deimos away from them, away from everyone, and then they fight in earnest.

Brasidas is safe beside her now though, and they turn just in time to see her love running toward them.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and though he seems so calm on the outside, - a picture of professionalism, - she can see his fear as clear as a cloudless sky. He knows, just as much as she does, how close to the river Styx she had just been.

“I’m fine,” She replies, also the very essence of professionalism, but he sees through her just as clearly as she does him. “I couldn’t let our employer die without paying us, now could I?”

She goes for glib but misses the mark, they all know that’s not the reason she saved him. No amount of drachmae is worth her life, but another life? Another life just might be.

“And I owe my life to you for your heroism!” Brasidas says to her, and it sounds so genuine and heartfelt, she knows she made the right choice in saving him.

Though, when she thinks about it, it wasn’t really a choice between her love’s life and Brasidas’. She’s seen her partner take out an entire small army single handed, and a few Athenian's was nothing compared to Deimos himself.

No.

It wasn’t her love’s life she was choosing against. It was her own.

Leap of Faith. She thinks again, and smiles.

Her partner calls her out on this behaviour though. Later that night.

“That was reckless, what you did.” He says around a groan.

“Is this really the time to reprimand me?” She replies, breathlessly, from where she bounces atop him. Hands on his strong chest, and she traces a finger lovely around the raven marking his left pectoral. She bares down harder on her next bounce and moans.

Gods but she’ll never get over the feel of his cock filling her.

“You almost died!” He growls. His hands have found her hips and he’s physically lifting and dropping her onto his dick. She’s climaxing before she knows what’s hit her. Head thrown back and thighs trembling.

But he hasn’t found his peak yet, and she’s not done. Not anytime soon.

“I knew I could save him,” She’s rolling her hips in little circles now, getting herself going again, and the way his abs rub at her clitoris is exquisite. “Besides, he paid us double what we were originally owed, and did you see the look on the Eagle-Bearer’s face after? We’ll be the talk of Greece now.”

She finds herself on her back before she can begin bouncing again in earnest.

“Just don’t do it again.” He says and then he’s plowing into her in abandon and there’s no more talk after that.

\------------------------------------------

She’s waking from a nap, - her companion sleeping beside her, - to the smell of fish, and the sun shining a pleasant heat into her fur.

“Here you are, sacred one.” Says the beautiful woman, kindly. Putting a dish in front of her, before going back to sit at the desk across the room.

‘Ahhh, so that’s where the fish smell is coming from.’ She thinks, stretching her long, ginger paws.

At the first taste, she knows the fish is fresh. Just caught.

She’s learned to look for the strange triangular symbol that adorns the fabrics of this place. The symbol means the beautiful woman is there, and the woman always gives the freshest fish.

She licks at the yellow fur atop her feline companion’s head, gently waking her from her slumber.

 _Food._ She says, then waits for her companion to eat her fill before taking her turn.

‘Such a nice life they lead’ She thinks, as they eat their meal to the scritch-scratch sounds of the woman writing her letters. That triangular symbol inlaid on a strange bracer buckled to the woman’s arm.

\------------------------------------------

“Do you ever feel like we were destined to be at each other’s sides?” He asks Eivor one night after a bout of particularly passionate lovemaking.

“All the time,” The younger man replies, looking up at him from where he lies, naked and nestled in the crook of Sigurd’s arm.

“I dream of the Allfather sometimes,” He continues, then looks away again. “I dream strange things that I can’t always make sense of, but I-”

He can’t finish the sentence. Almost as if he’s too embarrassed to try.

“Me too,” Sigurd replies back, in understanding.

“I’m glad we’ve found each other,” He says to his younger lover.

And he doesn’t mean just physically. - That the man who is Sigurd has found the man who is Eivor. - But emotionally as well. That one of them was smart enough to realize what they felt for each other was more then just brotherly affection. That it will always be more.

That they found each other as lovers.

“We will always find each other,” Is what Eivor says back.

\------------------------------------------

They shouldn’t be doing this he thinks. This is wrong in the eyes of God.

The amount of trouble they could get into.

But his lover moans and thrusts into him and it _oh_ it feels so good.

They’ve known each other since they were little boys. Almost babes really. Both of them orphans.

Two out of over a dozen. Brought to Masyaf to be trained. To be part of the Brotherhood.

Most of those other orphans are dead now. He can’t even remember all of their names.

But not them. The two of them. Thick as thieves, have not only somehow survived everything that has been thrown at them, but have risen through the ranks together. Deadly warriors in their own rites. They’ve gained the Mentor’s respect enough to be permitted inside the fortress, inside his private libraries.

Private, sacred libraries that they are currently desecrating. Rutting in a desolate corner. His lover’s back jammed into one of the bookshelves and it can’t be comfortable but the man doesn’t seems to care as they continue to thrust against each other. Moans silenced in a searing kiss.

He thought this was one-sided. For the longest time, he thought he was the only one in love.

And oh how in love he was. Is still. Has been since as long as he can remember.

But it’s forbidden. Punishable by stoning. He was never going to say anything. Couldn’t risk it,- not just losing his partner, his best friend, the love of his life, - But God forbid someone else found out about his sin, and he had to watch the look on The Mentor's face as he was committed, in front of Allah, to be punished for the simple act of loving another. Just because they were both men.

God forbid he had to watch the disgust on _his_ _lover’s_ face. He thinks that would be worse then any stone thrown at him.

So no, he was never going to say a word.

It’s a good thing then, he thinks, - as he tugs down his pants to free his aching cock, - That his lover is far less cowardly then he.

Said lover who is currently pawing at him, has a hand around his dick the second it was made available to touch, and he’s moaning at the feel of it before he can stop himself.

“Shhh!” His lover snaps, but there’s laughter in it and his face is bright.

“Oh I’ll show you ‘shh’” he whispers as he frees his lover’s cock as well.

Then he has to kiss him to hide both their moans as he aligns their dicks and they rub together, skin to blissful skin.

They’re so completely lost in each other that that they don’t see their observer at first (later he’ll wonder how long the old man was standing there.)

It’s the sound of a throat clearing that notifies them, and they split apart as if jolted. Dawning horror on both their faces when they see who’s caught them.

“Mentor!” His lover looks like a ghost.

They’re both going to be stoned. They’re going to be punished by death in the middle of the city, everyone will know an-

“We have a perfectly good garden just outside.” The Mentor says, not unkindly. “Must you do this here?”

There’s a heavy silence after that. Briefly, he thinks they must make quite the sight. Faces going from sheet white to beat red in the span of seconds, naked dicks hang out of their trousers.

“You’re not.....We’re not-” He hears his lover start.

“Put those away,” The Mentor interrupts. And they rush to make themselves presentable again.

Once they’re fully clothed, and standing in front of their Mentor, backs straight and arms rigid at their sides, he speaks again.

“Nothing is true,” He starts. “And everything is permitted.”

Then, at their slowly brightening faces, “Just keep my books out of it.”

“Yes, Mentor Ibn-La’Ahad!” They say in unison, to his retreating back.

\------------------------------------------

She’s at their market stall on a long hot day. Counting down the moments till she can close up the shop and go home to her lover’s embrace.

“This is an interesting piece of jewellery,” Comes a woman’s voice. Snapping her from her daydreams.

“It’s authentic Spartan!” She says back, quickly, hoping her thoughts weren’t plastered all over her face.

At the look the other woman gives her though, her hope was in vain.

“Where did you get this?” The other woman asks instead. Continuing to examine the item in question.

She can’t help but notice the woman’s beauty, the way her rich brown hair is tied to a braid at the side of her face side, the deep chocolate colour of her eyes, and her muscles. How does a person even get that muscular?!

The woman is watching her patiently, and she realizes she was caught staring.

“My lover is a sailor” She replies. Trying to keep her blushing under control. “She owns her own ship. She used to sail across the coasts of Greece, back before we met.” Great, now she’s rambling. “She would find things like this all the time. ‘The prizes left from navel battles,’ she would say.”

“How much are you selling it for?” It’s actually not for sale. It was meant to be decoration. There to attract patrons to their much, much, _much_ less rare items, But the woman’s eyes look so lonely and sad, and there’s something _so_ familiar about her, like they’ve met somewhere before.

“Eagle-bearer?” she blurts. Suddenly and out of nowhere.

The woman’s face instantly goes from lonely to alarmed. “What did you say?” a whisper.

She barely would have heard it if she wasn’t paying as much attention as she was.

“I....I’m sorry,” she replies. Sheepish. “I don’t know why I said that....”

The air hangs between them, stilted and awkward.

She feels herself being intensely examined, like she’s a puzzle the beautiful woman is trying to solve.

Then a look crosses the woman’s face, a look she can’t read.

“Kassandra” The woman says. “My name is Kassandra. How much is this item?” And thankfully, the thing she points to _isn’t_ an authentic Spartan heirloom.

\------------------------------------------

He’s throwing stones into the canal. Heart hurting and eyes wet. He wishes he could just die.

He would rather die then have to deal with _this._

“What has you so sad _bambino?”_ The man asks, startling him.

“I’m not a _kid.”_ He replies, instinctively. He’s almost twelve.

“Ah! Forgive me!” Says the man, arms up and palms forward in a defensive stance. “How could I possibly think such a thing.” He continues, smirking.

For a second, he has the feeling that he’s seen the man before, - In his odd, white, hooded robe. Face partially obscured, - But then he blinks and the feeling is gone.

“So what _is_ troubling you?” The man asks a second time, and it sounds like genuine concern.

“The girl I love doesn’t love me back!” He cries, distraught.

“Ahh, I see. That is troubling indeed.” And though the man’s voice has a little too much mirth, he sounds sincere enough. “What makes you say that?”

“I saw her playing with another boy! And then later, he told me he was going to marry her!” He feels a lump in his throat and water behind his eyes and he has to struggle not to cry.

“And did she say anything of this?” The man asks, gently.

“...I haven’t talked to her about it yet” He replies, a little bashful. The truth is he was too scared to ask her. “But how could she have not said yes to him? She’s so pretty, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, and he’s rich and handsome, and they were _playing together_!” That last part was very important.

“Those things all maybe true, but you’ll never really know unless you speak to her yourself.” The man pauses. “You don’t know what can happen tomorrow,” And suddenly he sounds incredibly sad. “Take a leap of faith.”

“I suppose I could ask her...” He say’s back, grudgingly.

“That’s the spirit!” The man cheers. “Good luck _bambino_!”

And as he’s kissing his new sweetheart later, - glowing at the fact that she _does_ love him back! _She does! She does! -_ He realizes he forgot to correct the man for calling him a kid again.

\------------------------------------------

She smells blood in the water, another battle has been fought. The two of them will feast well tonight.

She calls her mate and they swim toward the alluring scent.

She recognizes the ship when they arrive. She knows it to be deadly, - the humans aboard will hunt and kill her kind, use her fins and hide to cover their disgusting bodies, - Even she knows it’s name.

 _Jackdaw_ she thinks

But she also knows the ship brings with it a feast of human flesh. The bodies from other ships thrown into the depths, just waiting for her and her mate to feed upon them.

She tries to gauge the risk to the reward. A meal of humans but at the cost of being skewered by spears. Thrown at them from the hunter that controls the deadly ship.

Suddenly she feels waves of disturbance in the water, her mate tenses beside her, and she sees the hunter in question. He’s swimming past when he catches them.

She can smell his fear. He is not the hunter in this moment, but the hunted.

But she doesn’t move, and the hunter swims past, tentative, his eyes never leaving the two of them.

She’ll let the hunter live for now. Let him bring in more bodies for them to feast on. There maybe other chances to get him later.

“Careful in the water, Ade,” Jumbled hunter speak from above “I swam past two sharks the size of Schooners!”

\------------------------------------------

“Good day, Connor!” He yells, watching the man in question cautiously make his way to their position.

“Good day,” Connor replies, a safe distance away from him, wearily eyeing his companion. “I was just checking to see if you were settling in alright.”

“Oh we’re great! Thank you for asking,” it takes him a second to lift his broken body onto his cane, his companion coming to his side in support. “It’s wonderful for you to offer us a place here. Truly.”

“Of course!” Connor replies, with fervor. “We have plenty of space, and resources for any who might need a home.”

His companion lifts her head in Connor’s direction and the other man takes a steady step back.

“You don’t have to worry about her, she’s safe.” He laughs, gently petting the _her_ in question.

“Forgive me,” Connor replies “I’ve never seen a wolf as a pet before. Around here they are deadly.”

“Yes,” He says back, laughing still. “They’re deadly everywhere, but I’ve known this girl since she was a pup. Don’t be scared.”

Slowly, Connor makes his way to them. Then, as cautious as a deer, gently bends down and reaches his hand toward the wolf.

“I knew she would like you,” He says as she sniffs then licks at Connor’s finger’s. “She always had a thing for us misfits.”

“What’s her name?” Connor’s smiling now. Relaxed completely once he realized the wolf posed no threat,

“Havi,” He replies, easily.

“Havi...” Connor say’s back. “It’s a good name.” The man is petting her in earnest now. Both hands on her as he scratches behind her ears.

“Connor,” He begins, tentative, “May I ask a favour of you?”

“Anything.” No hesitation at all.

“Will you take care of Havi for me? I fear I am not long for this world.”

Connor pauses at that, staring at him for a long moment. Havi whines and for some reason, he knows it’s his words that are causing her distress, and not that Connor has stopped petting her.

“Of course I will,” Connor says. Easily, and he knows the other man means it. “But I don’t understand, you must be younger then me. Why do you say such things?”

“I am young yes,” He begins, “But my body is broken,” he points to his missing leg, “There was an accident many years back, and I’ve never fully recovered, I fear I am only getting worse.”

There’s no point in hiding it, really. He’s been feeling it for weeks. A heaviness in his head and an ache in his limbs. He feels he’ll be at death’s door any day now. Some days he wonders if it’s only his worry for Havi that keeps him going at all. She was so young when he found her. She has no idea how to live in the wild, and a lone wolf is a weak thing indeed.

How fortunate that they had come across this strange, kind man when they did.

Connor stands again. At his full height he gives the impression of a brick house.

\- A sudden feeling of Déjà vu. There and gone in a flash. -

“I will make sure Havi gets all the care and love she deserves” Connor says in earnest. “And that your funeral rites will be performed to the very best of our abilities.”

And of course kind, sweet Connor would think of him too. He didn’t even consider what would become of his body after his death. Havi is all he as left.

“Thank you,” He can feel a tear fall down his cheek, but Connor doesn’t bring it up.

He dies in his bed three nights later to the sounds of Havi howling in grief.

\------------------------------------------

They’re running as fast as their little legs can take them. Getting caught isn’t an option. He’s seen what they do to thieves.

He should have been more careful, he should have paid more attention to his surroundings. He didn’t mean to put them in danger. To put _her_ in danger.

But they have no money and they need food. It was just a few apples.

She’s still carrying them now, Stubbornly swinging the sack of them in her one hand as they run across the rooftops.

He doesn’t even remember how they _got_ on the rooftops.

He spots a building with good handholds and they climb higher, years of having to survive on the streets making them both quick and cunning.

But the officer chasing them seems to be the cunning sort too. They just can’t lose him.

He sees the dead end before they reach it. A plaza down below means there’s no other building to jump to.

“What are we going to do now?!” She’s yelling. In fear, not accusation. She wouldn’t blame him for this, even though she should. She wouldn’t blame him even if they got caught.

She wouldn’t blame him even as their little necks rest on guillotines, blades poised to drop above them.

No! He won’t let that happen to them. They’ll get through this.

But he’s panicking. He can’t see anywhere to go, and no clear way down.

The officer is almost on them.

“Halt! Thieves!”

He spots a pile of leaves right below them.

Leap of Faith. A voice in his head screams.

“We have to jump!” He yells.

“Are you crazy?!” She yells back.

“Trust me!”

They jump.

Time seems to slow, as if hours are passing in the span of seconds.

Suddenly he recalls memories that aren’t his. - Memories of hoods and blades, hidden on wrists, and strange triangle symbols. Memories of a wolf and a raven and a man with blonde hair and striking blue eyes. -

They land in the leaves with a faint “floof” sound.

And,

They’re fine.

It’s all a little anticlimactic really.

He’s about to start laughing, heart full of sudden joy, when he hears it.

“Here, I saw them drop here!”

‘You have got to be kidding me’ He thinks. All this for a few apples?!

She’s tense at his side, but silent.

“Excuse me!” Another voice, male, young. “Are you looking for a pair of children?”

“A pair of thieves! Did you see where they went?”

“Thieves, yes, of course,” He could be imagining things, but the voice sounds amused. “I saw them run that way with a big sack of apples.”

The sack isn’t _that_ big.

He hears the footsteps running away. An alarming number of them. These apples better be made of gold or something, or he’s going to shit himself.

“You can come out now,” The young man’s voice.

Her hand is gripping his. Tense. She doesn’t trust this stranger. She wants them to stay hidden, The world is a cruel place and they can trust no one but each other.

She’s right, he _knows_ she’s right but something in his gut is telling him otherwise.

_What has you so sad, bambino?_

“That was a rather dangerous trick you pulled,” The man says when he gets a good look at him. Pulling himself, and her out of the leaves (She’s reluctant, but she follows him. She always follows him.)

The man looks as young as he sounds. Or well, what they can see of him anyway, most of his face is covered behind a hood.

His instinct is to step in front her, block her from the man, - but she wouldn’t appreciate it. Would be furious at him about it later. Yell at him for making her look weak. - So he fights it.

“Is that all you have to eat?” The man asks. “That little sack off apples?”

It’s not _that_ little. He thinks.

The man gets up suddenly, and he flinches back in alarm. Feels her tense beside him. She wants to run. Doesn’t understand why they haven’t already started running.

But somehow he knows, there’s nowhere they can run that this man can’t catch them.

“Here” The man says, dropping a sack of coins at his feet.

She lunges and grabs it, - quick as a viper. - before he can even react. (And he’ll reprimand her for it later too, for going so easily to something that might have been a trap.)

The man just stands there for a minute, watching them watch him.

Then he slowly bends down again, to their level, and pulls something out of his pocket.

“Go get yourself a proper meal, and a good set of clothes,” The man says, “Then come find me.”

The man hands him a medallion. A medallion with a strange triangle symbol engraved in it.

“What’s your name?” he asks, taking it. He can feel her eyes on him. She doesn’t know what to think of all this.

“Arno.” the man says.

\------------------------------------------

“Come on! We have to go!”

She feels so hot. Her skin is burning. Someone is carrying her and there’s smoke everywhere. ‘Oh, That’s why’ she thinks. They were inside the factory when the fires started. One of the machines had exploded. She remembers the flames, and the screaming of the other children. She remembers running through the factory. Trying to find _her_. They had been separated and she needed to find the other girl. Needed to make sure she was alright.

Now she feels herself being carried in someone’s strong arms, and she looks up at a handsome face. A man. Then there’s clean air and a bright sky and she’s gasping. Trying to breath in as much of it as she can.

“Hey, hey, you’ll be alright.” The man says softly, but he sounds sad. His voice sounds wet.

She tries to ask about her friend. She needs to know if the other girl is alright too.

But all that comes out of her mouth is a feeble cry.

“Jacob, I don’t think-” A woman’s voice. She turns her head to see, and there, in the woman’s arms. It’s _her._ Patches of her skin look black with char, and her eyes are closed. She’s not moving.

‘Oh,’ she thinks. ‘She’s dead.’

She starts to cry without even realizing it, reaching out for the other girl. Trying to hold her. One last time.

She feels herself being placed onto the ground and she thinks she should be feeling pain, but she doesn’t. She feels nothing at all.

It’s alright though because the woman is putting the other girl down beside her, and she can hold her now. Hug her motionless body, as she feels herself fading.

“They were just kids, Evie!” A broken cry.

It’s the last thing she hears.

\------------------------------------------

“$2.00 for gun oil!” He mumbles angrily to himself. “Ridiculous,”

He runs his hand through his red hair as he crosses the street, trying to get it out of his face. He should really get it cut. It’s getting longer then he would like.

Walking to the saloon on the other side. He hopes his partner didn’t go gettin himself into any trouble.

He’d only been gone a few minutes, but he wouldn’t put nothing past the younger man.

Sure enough, he opens the door to the saloon and immediately stiffens. His partner is at the bar, blonde hair instantly eye catching. He’s talking to two other men.

“Gentlemen,” He says, tipping his hat amicably in their direction, as he takes his place by his partner’s side. “Good day to ya.” He feels tense, but he’s trying not to let it show. The last thing they need right now is a shootout in the middle of the town.

Not after what happened last time.

“Good day to you too,” Says one of the two men. His dark hair and clothes make his skin look especially pale, and his face looks oddly pretty, - considering how scared up it is, - Feminine-like.

“Your friend here was just telling us a very interesting story.” The man has a strange voice. Both rough and high at the same time.

“Was he now?” He asks and he hopes his tone isn’t as suspicious as he feels. Judging by his partner’s face, he doesn’t quite mask it, but neither of the two men seems to notice so he supposes it’s fine.

“Yeah, something about a mansion. Lots of cash. Family Heirlooms.” This is the second man talking now. The one with sandy, blond hair and a thicker build. “A _very_ interesting story.” The blond man finishes.

He’s not sure he likes that emphasis on “very.”

“I’d just heard about it myself, the other day,” His partner lies. They’ve been casing the place for some time now, trying to find a way past the sizable guard rotation, “Figured it might be a fine mark for us to split eh?”

“Yeah, it _is_ a fine mark.” The scared man is fiddling with his glass in one hand, the other is on his belt. Not near enough to his gun be to threatening, but close enough to cause alarm. “When were you boys planning on hitting it?”

They weren’t. On account of the whole ‘sizable guard’ thing.

“Tonight,” his partner lies again, and he can feel his eyes twitch as he strains not to glare at the man.

“Tonight it is then,” The blond says, then the two of them are throwing some money on the counter and, - with a hat tip in his, and his partner’s direction, - They leave the saloon.

“You idiot!” He hisses at his partner, once he’s sure the two are gone. “Them’s Van der Linde boys!”

“Yeah I know them’s Van der Linde boys!” his partner hisses back.

“if you know then why’d ye talk to em?”

“Cause we’ve been casing that mark fer weeks and we still haven’t found a way to get to it. We need help, ya know we do,” And as much as he hates to admit it, his partner has a point. This mark is far too good too pass up, and far too dangerous for just the two of em.

“Yeah, but Van der Lindes?” He asks, incredulous. “You know what kinda bounty those boys have on their heads?”

“Yeah, I do.” His partner shoots back, “And if they’re the boys I think they are, then we’ll get this mark, easy. You’ll see.”

He must look especially skeptical though cause he feels his partner’s hand surreptitiously brushing his, from under the bar. Too subtle for anyone except him to notice. “Come on, it will be _fine_. Take a leap of faith with me.”

And surprisingly, it _was_ fine. With the two Van der Linde boys, they get through the guards easy, - and he fully understands why they have such a high bounty now. Them boys can _shoot_ , - and are in and out of the place quick as ya please. Gone long before the law even knows they were there.

Turns out the mark was _even_ richer then they had thought, and even after splitting their prize in half, it’s a high enough sum to buy them a mansion of their own.

They even part with the Van der Lindes on good terms, - The boys going so far as to give them their real names and offer to work together again, - and he has to admit, they make a _great_ team.

“See, I told ya so” His partner whispers breathlessly later. Once they’re alone, again, to celebrate their success.

“Yeah, yeah,” He replies, slowly pushing two oiled fingers into the other man and enjoying the sounds of his quiet moans.

“Try not to be too loud,” He says. They need to be careful. They had found an abandoned house, secluded away from everyone, and he was pretty positive there weren’t people around for miles, but there’s no need to take unnecessary risks.

“Give me another one,” is all his partner says in response, and he obliges without hesitation. Pushing three fingers in, easy. This isn’t their first rodeo and he’s getting impatient.

But seeing his lover writhing naked on the cot, taking three fingers, smooth like butter, - thrusting himself onto them like some wanton whore, - just does something to him.

He pulls them out a second later and lines his cock up in their place. Not even bothering to slick himself, there’s enough oil, and they like it a bit rough anyway.

The first push in is always the sweetest and he lets out a long gust of air.

“Come on,” His lover keens, “Move,”

And he starts a slow pace. Steadily sliding in an out. He was right to not slick himself. The added friction feels amazing and he can see how it’s driving his lover mad. Gentle little moans coming out of the man in a constant stream as he hides his face behind his arms.

He grabs one of his lover’s leg and tosses it over a shoulder, straddling the other one. The new position gives him a much better angle and he goes in earnest, thrusting in hard and hitting that sensitive spot.

His lover quickly covers his mouth with one hand but he can hear his moan slip through his fingers anyway. He’s close. They both are. Too keyed up from their night of crime.

“You ready for me?” He groans, he’s starting to lose control of the rhythm, thrusts getting punishing as he chases his release.

“Yes!” He grabs the other man’s cock and starts an immediately rough pace.

“Yes!” His lover says again, climaxes with a groan, ass constricting reflexively around his dick.

And then he too is coming inside that delicious, addicting heat.

“You know they hang men for doing what we do,” he says, once they’ve cooled off.

“Rather be hanged for this then for any of the other reasons they got on us.” His partner replies with a laugh.

The man’s got a point.

\------------------------------------------

“You should go talk to her.” The bartender says.

“Am I being that obvious?” She asks him.

“A little,” He replies, sympathetically, “But if it makes you feel any better, She’s being pretty obvious too,”

She laughs. “How bout you get me a drink first. Some of that liquid courage and all that.”

“What’ll it be?”

She asks him to surprise her with some sweet cocktail, and then watches him prepare it. He’s good looking. Not like the blonde woman she’s been eyeing, but attractive in his own way. He looks Middle-Eastern maybe, darker hair and olive skin. There’s a scar on his lip and something about it is familiar to her.

“Hey,” She says after she’s paid him for the drink, “What’s you’re name?” She doesn’t know why she asks it. Probably makes her sound like another drunk girl flirting with the service, but she can’t get over the familiarity of him.

“Dean,” he says back to her, with a smile.

“Wish me luck, Dean!” She toasts, tipping her glass to him. Then she tosses her long, red hair over her shoulder and makes her way to the gorgeous blonde she’s been eyeing since she got here.

An hour later, she has that same blonde up against the inside of the bathroom stall, fingers down the woman’s sinfully tight jeans, and rubbing against the wet skin of her crotch. She gives Dean a single passing thought, - about how she’ll have to thank him,- then she shoves two fingers into the blonde and kisses the responding moan from her lips.

God but the other woman is _wet_. She tries to capture one of the blondes thighs between her own. Rub her crotch against them to get some friction. The woman catches on and shoves the thigh into her. Letting her hump it.

It feels amazing but it’s not enough, and she’s pushing her other hand down between her own legs and into her panties, so glad she’s wearing a skirt.

The blonde catches on a second time,- smart woman, - and pushes her hand away roughly, to shove three fingers right into her.

She didn’t expect it and she’s grateful they’re still kissing so she could stifle the moan startled out of her.

She alternates pumping her finger’s into the blonde woman, and pulling them out to rub at her clit. Gentle circles at first, then rougher when she realizes that’s what the blonde likes.

“A _h!”_ The blonde breaks their kiss with a mewl. “I’m coming!” And she’s rubbing at her furiously now. Determined to push her off the edge. Her wetness making it sound obscene.

The blonde puts a hand to her mouth, - the one not currently working at her entrance, - and moans into it as she orgasms. Thighs spasming.

Then without warning she feels herself being flipped over. Fingers roughly pulled out of her and back hitting the stall as the other woman bends down and swiftly yanks her panties off.

“Oh god,” she whispers and then there’s a hot tongue lapping at her wetness.

The blonde lifts her one leg then the other over each shoulder and buries right into her. Eating her out like she’s the most delicious thing the blonde has ever tasted.

This new position bunches up her skirt, giving her full view of the woman sucking at her wetness. Tongue lapping circles around her clit, staring at her all the while, and if that’s not the _sexiest_ thing.

“I need, I _need,”_ she begs, and the blonde shoves two fingers back inside her. Thrusting them roughly while her tongue continues licking at her clit.

She comes on the third thrust, head thrown back and a silent scream forced out of her.

She gets the blondes name and number, and then goes back to the bar to give Dean her thanks, along with 20 dollar tip.

\------------------------------------------

It’s dark.

It’s dark and quiet but for a strange subtle hum, like a machine.

He’s a ball of light in this dark place.

Is he a _He?_ A She maybe? A They?

 _He_ sounds best to him right now, so that’s what he goes with.

“That makes sense,” Says a voice “‘ _He’_ was the pronoun your very first life used. It would be fitting for to want to use it here” A shape appears in front him, glowing bright light like he does.

But the shape isn’t a ball like him. It’s a man.

The strange man laughs. “You can choose your own shape here, you know.”

Can he? He tries it.

‘Ah! That’s better.’ he thinks, looking down at his glowing body.

“Where is ‘Here?’” He asks the glowing man.

“Depends on who you ask,” The man replies. “It has many names, and purposes. For you, it’s probably best referred to as ‘The In-Between.’”

“The In-Between,” He tries the words himself. They feel right.

“It’s the place you go to before each life,” The man says again. “Do you remember who you are?”

He thinks. Many names and faces flow through him. His lives, he realizes.

One stands out above all the rest, “Tyr,” he says, then another. “Sigurd,”

For some reason, the second suits him a bit better.

“Well, it’s certainly less pretentious.” Laughs the man.

Sigurd doesn’t get the joke.

“You will. Soon. When you wake up next.” The man laughs again.

“And what are you called?” Sigurd asks.

‘You too, have more then one name.’ He thinks.

“Yes,” the man says, “but not nearly as many as you.”

The glowing man’s names flow through him, Just like Sigurd’s did.

_Reader, Dean...._

Again, one name stands out above all the rest.

_Desmond._

“Desmond” He calls the man, and then the dam is broken, and memories flood in like crashing waves.

Memories of his many lives and deaths, Memories of all of _them_. The Assassins. Memories of Desmond! They _had_ met before. He’s met a few of them many times. He understands now! It’s all connected!

Then he feels pain. So, so much pain. Memories of _him._

And again, many names.

“Eivor!” He cries out. Looking for him, but he’s not there.

“Your last timeline, you died first.” Desmond says, sadly. “Car crash.” He explains.

“Eivor will be here soon.” He reassures. “Time in this place doesn’t work like the outside,”

Any amount of time feels like ages to him though. Without Eivor. Seconds feel like an eternity.

“Is there anyone else?” he asks, for something to do.

“A friend of mine, But she’s not here at the moment,” Desmond replies, “You’ll meet her another time,”

They stand there for seconds and an eternity both, then suddenly.-

“Eivor!” He runs to their new arrival, the glowing ball shines brighter at the sound of his voice.

“Sigurd!” And then the ball is a shape. A man just like Sigurd. So it’s a _he_ for Eivor as well, right now.

Then Sigurd is being held. Warm bodies, - or whatever you could consider them in this place, - mushed together tightly, as if trying to be one, single, entity.

“I missed you Sigurd!” And his love sounds both heartbroken and elated.

“I’m sorry, my love” Now that he has the other man in his arms, he never wants to let him go again. “I hope you weren’t alone for too long,”

“Ten years,” Eivor says, “Cancer,” He explains. “I wanted to come sooner but I couldn’t leave her behind, She was already broken up enough without you.”

That’s right, he remembers. They had adopted a daughter their last timeline.

He’s glad she had some time left with Eivor before her own life comes to it’s end. Even as he is, selfishly, glad to have Eivor back with him now.

“Hello, Eivor,” Desmond says, he had forgotten the man was there, everything else had ceased to matter once he had noticed Eivor.

“Desmond,” Eivor acknowledges. Sigurd knows who Desmond is, and thus, so does Eivor. They share a mind here. “You weren’t here last time,” He’s right Sigurd realizes. He’s passed through this place every new life, but this is the first time he’s seen Desmond here.

“I died your last timeline,” He says. There’s no sadness there. He’s just stating a fact.

Sigurd starts to feel a pull then. Like he’s being drawn to something.

“Speaking of Timelines,” Desmond starts, “Looks like you two are off to your next one.”

Yes, that’s what the pull is. It’s the breath of life, trying to wake him from this place.

“Hey, Do me a favour would you?” Desmond asks him,

Anything.

“Give Shaun and Rebecca my regards,”

But he won’t remember any of this when he wakes up,

“Yes you will,”

How? He’s never remembered any of the other times.

“But I’m here now,” Desmond says, then laughs, “Take a leap of faith,”

\------------------------------------------

“It looks like we have about....a six hour drive left ahead of us” According to Google Maps anyway. If the traffic is good, they might even get there faster.

“Are you sure about this, Sigurd?” Eivor asks from his spot, leaning over the driver’s side of their car. “Once we make ourselves known to them, there’s no going back.”

He means the Assassins of course. That’s where they’re heading now. To meet the latest Mentor.

“It’s about time we joined the cause, don’t you think?” Sigurd asks. If Eivor truly doesn’t want to go, they’ll turn around. Sigurd would never do anything to upset the other man. They can find another way to deliver the message.

“I suppose it’s only for this lifetime anyway,” Eivor says, starting to get back into the car. “And it took us long enough to find them. It would be a waste to turn back now.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sigurd chuckles, strapping his seat belt on. “Besides don’t you want to see the looks on their face’s?”

Eivor Laughs, “I’m shocked they’re even still kicking. What are they pushing now? 90?”

“Hey, Modern medicine’s come along way, Rebecca looks pretty good for an 87-year-old.”

“Oh yeah? You think so, do you? You trying to replace me with an Assassin Mentor?”

“No one could ever replace you, my love.” Sigurd says, completely sincere, turning just in time to see Eivor’s gentle little smile as he drives.

Who knows what’s going to happen now. If the Assassins will even trust them. If they’ll even believe them.

But he gave his word, and he’s always been a man of honour.

Take a leap of faith he thinks.

And puts his hand on Eivor’s thigh.

\------------------------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> Does it really count as "Fan service" If the fan you are servicing is yourself?


End file.
